


Method to Madness

by VZG



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Tropic Thunder (2008)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-20
Updated: 2008-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VZG/pseuds/VZG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Kirk Lazarus is Tony Stark, then Tony Stark is— Well. He's Tony Fucking Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method to Madness

**Author's Note:**

> This story was completed for a Robert Downey Jr-themed kink meme, and later featured on Topless Robot's Fanfiction Friday. I'M NOT SORRY AT ALL.

Tony Stark never answered his own door. He was always _aware_ of it being answered, but he could count on one hand the number of times he had put his own palm on the handle of the door, pulled, and saw someone else on the other side. Three fingers, all accidents or coincidences.

So he didn't answer the door, and even though Pepper told him, through Jarvis, that Kirk Lazarus had arrived, he still jumped when he saw him.

It wasn't because he was surprised by his presence, of course; he didn't think Lazarus was exactly the sort to wait for anything to come to him, and had more than expected him to reject any sort of personal space and storm on down into the lab. He was surprised because he didn't storm, he sauntered in like he owned the place. He was surprised by the quietly carefree way he walked, like there was no way he and Tony Stark could possibly have any sort of confrontation when they met. He was surprised, most of all, by the realization that with his hair and beard dyed dark, Kirk Lazarus looked a lot like he did.

Tony knew a lot of actors, most of whom he'd fucked. He'd heard a lot of stories about Lazarus, about his intense immersion method acting, about his _dedication_. It was the only reason he'd agreed to being shadowed for two weeks.

He'd always sort of wanted a twin.

\---

"Your walk is off."

Day two, and it was time to start criticizing. If someone was going to be playing Tony Stark on the big screen other than Tony himself, he sure as hell wasn't going to be sloppy about it. He knew Lazarus would take it to heart, and so he stopped him before they got to the car, doubled back, walked to it again.

To his surprised, Lazarus didn't look offended in the least; instead, he watched Tony carefully, studying the motion of his body as he moved. He copied him, then cursed under his breath and did it again, more satisfied the second time.

"So basically, I need to walk like there's a rod stuck up my ass twenty-four seven," Kirk said, sliding smoothly into the car. He nodded to Happy, who almost called him "Tony."

"More or less, yeah." Tony slid in beside him, and then smiled brightly. "You've almost got the accent down."

Lazarus cleared his throat, then tried again. "Like there's a rod stuck up my ass twenty-four seven."

"Closer." Tony looked away, out the window. His eyes were too blue— not quite right. It was kind of disturbing; they almost seemed as bright as the arc reactor, which he hadn't let him see yet. "I wouldn't say 'twenty-four seven.' And you've got to put more into your insults."

"I hate you," Lazarus said, in a near-perfect imitation of his voice.

"Now you're way off. I _love_ myself."

\---

Half of the board of directors had flown out of New York just to talk to Tony, and they were — some would say _understandably_ — pissed at the prospect of having to deal with a _second_ Tony, especially one that was an actor.

Lazarus asked if he should leave. Tony laughed, and Lazarus almost looked ashamed, but he apparently knew enough to know that shame was just not something Tony did. Ever.

Tony slept through the meeting, waking only when he was asked something directly, and only muttered the barest passable responses then before drifting off once more. He was sure he probably snored.

Lazarus yawned by the end. Ton gave him points for it; he hadn't sat through dozens of the same sort of meetings before. It took some time, getting _that_ bored with it all.

"You didn't wake up when the bald guy asked about your marketing intentions with the suit," Lazarus informed him as they were leaving. "I told him he could shove his 'marketing intentions' right back up his ass."

"Not bad," Tony conceded. "I would have asked how his daughter was, too. I slept with her once, on his bed."

"I'll keep that in mind."

\---

On day five, Lazarus called Pepper "Miss Potts" when asking for her to order breakfast from the place Tony likes.

He also asked for extra bacon, crispy, which was wrong, but Tony let it slide.

"'Miss Potts?' Really?" Tony asked, a smirk plastered across his face as he toyed with the latest potential upgrade to the suit. "You sound like a schoolboy, Kirk."

Lazarus looked confused for a moment, and Tony saw him piecing it together, the puzzle written across his face. He hoped— he was pretty sure— he was never that easy to read.

It wasn't a matter of formality, or lack thereof. Tony would call any schmuck by his best-known nickname and throw in a charming smile just to get what he needed, to stay on everyone's good side even when he was cutting wires behind their back. Orders, even the sort that seemed like polite requests, either got no name or formal names, because Tony knew when to square his shoulders to stroke an ego here and there, especially if it was menial work that wasn't really in the job description, but—

But it was different with Pepper. It was different with Rhodey, too, but it was especially different with Pepper.

It clicked, and Lazarus didn't say anything, he just smiled.

\---

Jarvis recorded everything that went on in Tony's home. That was why he knew exactly what happened on the evening of the sixth day, and why he had to prepare himself for it when Lazarus descended the stairs into the lab, searching for him.

He didn't say anything, he just played the video, a high-quality capture of Pepper informing Lazarus of some inane detail of Tony's life, as she'd already gotten used to doing. And maybe if he hadn't been looking for it, hadn't seen Pepper's face before she left that night, he wouldn't have noticed it even if he had seen the video feed: Lazarus's hand on the small of her back, Pepper's eyebrows knitting together, the hand dropping just a little lower.

He let it stop there and then loop back. Lazarus knew what had happened after, anyway.

After a few minutes in which Lazarus looked neither surprised nor uncomfortable, Tony said, his voice even, "Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid?"

Lazarus didn't answer, didn't need to. No, he didn't. And now that it was pointed out to him, he knew where he'd gone wrong.

 _She's too important for that,_ Tony didn't say. It wouldn't happen again. He relaxed, felt his shoulders drop a bit, and turned back to his work.

\---

On the seventh morning, Lazarus got to see the other half of the equation first hand. Tony didn't know it at the time; he hadn't given him access to anything through Jarvis, had told him he would need to figure it out himself if he wanted to have any kind of success in their time together.

So he fucked the girl into the bed, some model or other who might have been half-naked in some ad somewhere. He didn't really know her name, except that it started with a P. Or a B. It didn't matter either way, because he already had his dick in her and he didn't need to bother with trying to charm or impress her out of her dress anymore.

She moaned and writhed like she was in ecstasy, and that was why she was facing away, so she couldn't see the sort of bored look on his face. He wasn't really all that interested. He just wanted to get off.

Pepper kicked her out, as usual, and Tony went about his day and it was almost noon before he remembered that Lazarus was supposed to be around somewhere.

He found him with the scene on a screen in the basement, and Lazarus wasn't ashamed — of course he wasn't — as he pointed to a part of it.

"This, here— what did you do with your hand?"

Tony looked at the screen, and he could barely remembered, but— "Her ass. I was fingering her ass."

Something almost like fascination flew through Lazarus's eyes as he set the footage back to play, and Tony knew he was thinking, _So this is what it's like to be screwed by Tony Stark._

\---

On day nine, he let Lazarus see the arc reactor.

"You're acting like this is some kind of fucking religious experience," Tony said, feeling more exposed than he thought he would. Most people made their oohs and aahs about the arc reactor from a distance, even if they did lean in close enough to breathe all over it and fog it up. They didn't really go for the _tactile_ experience.

"It kind of fucking is," and at that point it was getting kind of weird, the way his own voice was parroted back to him. "It's not like I'm going to have the real thing—"

A pause. Tony knew Lazarus was actually _considering_ it, and he'd probably throw in the life-threatening shrapnel, too. But he wasn't _quite_ that stupid.

"—so I've got to know what it's like," he finished, eventually.

Tony couldn't feel it at all from his side, knew that the fingers were stroking the entire thing but his nerves weren't there, didn't alert him to it except for the occasional brush against his skin when Lazarus touched the edge. Nonetheless, it was sort of hot; he'd always found the devoted attention of fetishists went straight to his cock, so long as it involved worshipping some part of his body— and, in his bed, it usually did. Lazarus wasn't so much different from one of those fetishists, even if he wasn't even close to any erogenous zones.

The edge of his hand brushed Tony's nipple, and he didn't let his breath hitch in his throat, forced himself to let it out, smooth as ever. After a moment more, he pushed Lazarus's hand away, buttoning up his shirt.

"That's enough of that. You're starting to look more like a moth than Tony Stark."

He wasn't sure if Lazarus had noticed his reaction; the man was too fined-tuned to his ever subtle gesture, he could have seen it even if he didn't let on that he had.

Sometimes he wondered if being such a smug bastard was worth it, and he wondered if maybe the whole Lazarus thing had really been a good idea after all.

\---

One the eleventh day, Tony completed a fake arc reactor. It felt the same to the touch as his, and even though it consumed energy rather than creating it, it still gave off the same light. Best of all, it was lightweight and could be stuck to flesh as easily as a fake nose.

Lazarus put it on happily and looked to Tony like he was some kind of mirror.

His eyes were still too bright. It was a problem, because Tony couldn't keep his eyes away from them, even with the lure of his own fantastic work and a lot of bare flesh just within reach, since Lazarus had taken his shirt off for comparison.

Tony thought about having Pepper put in an order for contacts, then made Lazarus do it instead. Pepper couldn't tell the difference.

\---

On day twelve, Lazarus said, "Call me Tony."

\---

Sometime between the thirteenth and fourteenth day, when they tumbled home less drunk than they let everyone else believe, still riding the high of losing ten thousand on the craps tables — they'd been playing it easy, because Tony didn't want Lazarus getting too carried away with money he didn't really have — they collapsed on Tony's bed, and Tony didn't have the energy, he told himself, to push Lazarus away, to point him toward the guest bed he'd been using.

If he fell asleep, it was only for a moment, but he was pretty sure he had, because one moment he was closing his eyes on the edge of his massive bed, and the next he was blinking at Lazarus's face, trying to squirm away because the arc reactor was bumping against its fake twin, which sort of hurt, and maybe a little because his dick was about to dig into Lazarus's thigh and he didn't like throwing that sort of surprise so suddenly at anyone.

It was too late, though, because Lazarus's eyes were wide and a little confused, and he grabbed Tony's arms, keeping him steady.

"Wait," Lazarus said. "Wait."

So Tony waited, but he couldn't always be a patient man, and he wasn't exactly in the mood to stick around doing nothing while Lazarus tried to figure out his fucked up psyche. Whatever it said about him, he was horny as hell, and he ground down into Lazarus's thigh, driving that point home.

"You'd—?"

"Fuck myself?" Tony supplied, twisting out of Lazarus's grip and putting one hand on his chest, next to the imitation reactor, and another on his shoulder. "In a heartbeat."

Tony didn't even bother asking if Lazarus swung that way, because he knew it didn't matter, not for a fucking second. No whispers had ever really been made about his sexuality, but two weeks with the man had convinced Tony that he had not gone into Satan's Alley without preparing for it _thoroughly_ , to an extent no one else Tony knew would ever go. It didn't matter any more what _Kirk Lazarus_ might do; Tony Stark was all that mattered there.

Tony pulled the zipper on Lazarus's pants open, shoved his hand in and wrapped his fingers around his dick. It didn't feel exactly like his, and for a second that surprised him; it was bigger, thicker mostly. "Nice, Kirk," Tony said with a grin, even when his stroking produced no result — Lazarus was still soft. Not pushing, not protesting, but not interested.

Lazarus adjusted, let himself be stroked, and muttered, "Call me Tony."

That sent something jolting straight to Tony's dick. He groaned, rutting against Lazarus's thigh, and that was it. That was the key; Lazarus's eyes, darkened by contacts, met his instantly, and then he was writhing, his cock hardening, clutching at Tony like Tony clutched at him. They kissed, frantic and almost painful, and Tony was barely sure whose tongue was in whose mouth as they rolled, mindful of the bed's edge. It wasn't a fight for dominance or an argument about who would do what or who— when Tony found himself on his back in the middle of his bed, both wrists caught in one of Lazarus's hands, it wasn't surrender, it was just how things worked out.

Lazarus knew where the condoms and lube were, and Tony didn't stop to wonder if he'd found them before, while wandering around mostly unsupervised, or if he'd just guessed correctly; instead, he focused on getting his pants off, his shoes and socks, and then unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall open just enough to put the arc reactor on display. When Lazarus came back to hover over him, his shirt was gone but his pants were still on, hanging on his hips, and he pushed them down only just enough to let his cock free, rolling on the condom quickly before slicking up two fingers and pushing them in without preamble.

"Fuck," Tony whined, wrapping his legs around Lazarus's hips. " _Tony_."

Lazarus fucked him with his fingers, setting a hard and rough pace almost immediately, and Tony knew he was right about the Satan's Alley thing, because he knew exactly how to find his prostate and make it _fantastic_. He tried to thrust himself back on those fingers, but he was held down firmly, the one hand back around his wrists, chests pressed together so that the reactors almost bumped again.

Lazarus pulled out his two fingers, pushed in three, and Tony wasn't going to wait any longer. He thrust up, rubbed himself against Lazarus's erection as best he could, and the groan he got as a reward said that his best effort was definitely a good one. The fingers were gone, and an instant later Lazarus's cock was pressing against him, pushing in, and Tony almost kicked him to make him push in faster, but he saw the way Lazarus was breathing, the concentration in his eyes, and he trusted him, trusted that it would be good.

It was, though Tony would have thought of "good" as a terrible understatement. He let loose a string of curses, occasionally mixing in a hissed "yes" or grunted " _God!_ " to shake things up, encouraging Lazarus to do the same, and hearing Lazarus — no, hearing _himself_ get off was the most erotic thing he could dream of then, made it so good that after his hands were let go he wasn't sure who it was that jerked him off to his end, just that he saw nothing but the shining blue of the arc reactor when he closed his eyes and came. Lazarus gripped his hips, pulling him back into every thrust, and Tony went with him, pushing against him as best as he could, squeezing every muscle he could find the will to command at that point, until his other self came inside him.

\---

The fourteenth day, for the most part, was sort of hazy after they woke up, dressed, and successfully evaded Pepper, taking care not to look like they'd been fucking. Tony smirked at his mirror image when she turned away, unsuspecting, and as soon as he could get her caught up on a call to some overseas corporation he intended to turn down anyway, they stole away to every semi-private corner of the house.

In the living room, Tony blew Lazarus off, then got to find out exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a Stark blowjob. He didn't usually swallow, but he did just that once, hoping Lazarus would, too. He didn't, spitting into his hand and smirking at Tony as he wiped it on his pants, letting him know he'd been caught.

In the guest bedroom Lazarus had stayed in, Tony tied Lazarus down with a belt around each wrist, riding him until he was thrashing helplessly and begging to come.

In the basement, Tony slid on parts of the armor and Lazarus blew him, or tried to until he was bent over a worktable and fucked, lost to the mercy of Iron Man.

They eventually wound up, towards midnight, back in Tony's room, and Lazarus found an almost-forgotten dildo which would not be forgotten again; he fucked Tony with it, bringing him to the edge and easing him back down again and again, watching his face intently, studying him before pushing him over, and he came so hard it sort of hurt. Then Lazarus straddled his hips, jerking himself off onto Tony's stomach, and the way he moved over his dick made Tony wish there was some way his body would allow him to get it up again, but he was exhausted, and five orgasms in twenty-four hours was nothing to be scoffed at.

He fell asleep with his arms wrapped around what he fondly thought of as almost-himself, fingertips tracing the smooth lines of the not-reactor.

\---

In the morning, Lazarus was gone. Tony couldn't really hide his disappointment, and Pepper rolled her eyes when he whined about missing his own company.

"I'll just be happy when the world is back to having one Tony Stark," she said, not even looking at him, and that would have hurt if he didn't know she didn't mean it. Or that she did, but— well. It was _Pepper_. "You were really upsetting the— the _balance_ of things."

"The _balance_?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. "Pepper. I didn't know you cared."

She didn't bother rolling her eyes that time; instead, she told him he had a meeting to be at in less than an hour, and everything went more or less back to normal.

\---

Tony was invited, but he didn't make it to the movie premier. He liked hearing about the movie, but the thought of seeing himself on screen made him feel sort of sick and a little sad.

Nonetheless, he commended Kirk Lazarus for his excellent performance the next day and told one reporter that he never wanted anyone else to play him again.


End file.
